Page 88 of Barbi and the Villain

“Then why all this trouble? Why not let Damien get to the artifact first and just go after him when the seal is broken?” I ask, confused.

“Because that artifact does not only break the seal.” His lips quirk up. “It also gives its owner an advantage.”

“I’m not following.”

“The Sons of Tenebreis are dangerous, do not get me wrong. But they are not the worst danger in the universe. Eons ago, there were three types of beings created from the Source—of light, of darkness, and of nether. Seven beings of light, seven beings of darkness, and seven beings in between. They were the Primordial gods, and together, they created all mortals—of the human kind or the supernatural.”

I listen to his words, entranced. I have never heard of anything like it, and for some reason, excitement unfurls in my chest the more he recounts about these ancient powers. For someone who’s been consuming fantastical fiction from a young age, this is a dream come true!

“But conflict soon arose among the three factions of Primordials. Each wanted to control the mortals in a way, some for good, others for evil. The first war was started over the fate of mortals. It raged for millennia. All factions were equally matched in strength, so all the battles would end in a draw. That is until the light Primordials struck a deal with the nether Primordials to share power. And the only way for them to do so unbothered was by getting rid of the dark Primordials. Together, they created Tartarstasis, a prison realm that could hold the seven dark Primordials.”

“Okay, and what happened next?” I ask eagerly.

“The Seven were trapped in Tartarstasis, and the fourteen Primordials created Aperion, a joint realm that would allow them to control the universe as they saw fit. And as a reactionary movement, the descendants of the Seven created Tartareia, a realm directly opposite to Aperion in every way and meant to continue the fight in the name of the Seven. Except… Something happened. No one knows why, but after some time, the Primordials simply disappeared. It was as if they washed their hands of the fate of the universe.”

“What?” My eyes widen.

“But they left something behind.” He smiles. “Fourteen artifacts that contain their essence—should the universe ever need their power again. And since the fourteen imprisoned the Seven with their essence, only their essence can free them once more.”

“So while this artifact we’re looking for can break the seal of Tartareia, the fourteen of them combined can open Tartarstasis? Do I have that right? And the Sons of Tenebreis want to release the Seven into the universe and control them?”

“Yes. That is the short version.”

I stare at him wide-eyed.

“So who are the good guys?”

He chuckles.

“Are there any good guys? I doubt it.”

“Of course you’d say that,” I grumble. “You’re a Son of Tenebreis. You’re literally a descendant of the Seven.”

“I never claimed to be a good guy.”

“But…” I blink furiously, my mind trying to make sense of all of this. “Is that why you want the artifact? Because you want to free the Seven into the world? You want to…” I choke on my words. “You want to unleash those evil beings into the universe? And you want me to go along with that? Are you absolutely mad?”

He scoffs.

“Do not be so dramatic, dear. Unfortunately, my goals are not so lofty. I do not care about the Seven. But my brother does. And if I get the artifact first, that means he will not get it. The only reason I wish to return to Tartareia is to eliminate my brother once and for all.”

“Why? Because he tried to kill you? I’m sure if you talked, maybe you could find some common ground. Why, maybe it was all a misunderstanding and?—”

“You are far too innocent, Barbi.” He laughs. “There will be no talking. There will only be blood spilled and screams of pain. It is the least he deserves after everything he’s done to me.”

“But you’re still alive. It can’t be that bad. Brothers shouldn’t kill each other,” I whisper softly.

“I may be alive. But Mo is not. And it is all because of him,” he grits out, the color of his irises shifting to reflect his rage.

I freeze.

There it is, that name again.

Mo.

“Who…” I take a deep breath, unsure whether I am ready for his answer. “Who is Mo?”

He spares me a bored glance.

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